Tagged: short story

I crossed my left leg over my right as the monstrosity settled down into the chair on the other side of my dark wood desk.

“So, Mardock,” I began.

He immediately corrected me, his voice booming from behind the scarred metal helm that covered most of his face. “MOR-dock. Not MAR-dock. Mordock the Blood Drinker.”

As Mordock spoke, the sense of something just behind the veil of reality chattering and barking filled the room.

“Right,” I said, making note of it on my yellow writing pad.

I met Mordock’s hellish gaze. His eyes were red hot coals burning within his helmet. As Mordock shifted in seat the veins in his tree trunk of a neck and boulder-sized shoulders rippled – almost as if the tentacles of some creature resided under his skin rather than veins.

“So, Mordock, tell me a bit about yourself, and what would make you the best candidate for the villain of my next novel.”

“I began life as a slave in one of the tribes on the plains of Hruntnor,” Mordock began, his voice almost a shout. “My mother was a concubine of the tribe’s chief, and though I was his son he treated me lower than the livestock. As a young man I was thrown into the fighting pits, and quickly earned a reputation as a brutal killer.”

I scribbled notes as he spoke.

“It was the night of the blood moon that I discovered my destiny,” he continued. “I and fourteen other slaves fell into a sinkhole. I was the only one to survive. Within was a cave, and there the dark gods offered me power, taking the deaths of the thirteen other slaves as a satisfactory offering.”

Though I couldn’t see Mordock’s smile, I could hear it in his voice and see it in the flare of his fiery eyes.

“I climbed from that cave and killed my father, taking control of the tribe. I subjugated the surrounding tribes, leaving offerings of death to my fell patrons in my wake.”

I nodded approvingly. I liked what I heard.

There was just one more question I had.

“This all sounds excellent,” I said. “But can you do sneaky and underhanded?”

Mordock stopped and froze in place, his blazing eyes cooled for a moment.

“Uh. . .I, uh. . .I can kill.”

“Right, I gathered that. But can you craft and hatch maniacal plans?”

“Well. . .” I could see his red eyes narrowed in a frown. “I can. . .I can launch campaigns. . .and slaughter thousands. . .did I mention I can kill?”

“Yes, you did mention that.”

“Good, good,” he said, helmeted head bobbing. “Yes, I can definitely kill.”

“Well, thank you, Mordock,” I said, standing up. “I will be in contact.”

Mordock shook my hand, and I could tell he was a little dejected. He opened the door to my office, and I could see the long line of villain applicants had increased since the beginning of Mordock’s interview.

Go and read the other entries, many are quite good. 🙂 Mine is under “Christopher Meyer”.

But I will also post it here:

John collapsed as the hand crushed his neck, the nails cutting deep into the skin, crimson droplets of blood trickling donward. He tried to scream, tried to call for help, but all the energy left his body at that moment as his soul was torn from his mortal form.

Releasing John’s empty corpse, the red-haired man that had attacked John smiled, relishing the rush of energy, a fresh freckle burned onto his pale face.